


cataclysmic variables

by wrennette



Series: sithnip [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin behaving badly, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Xanatos and Bruck on a rescue mission in the sithnip 'verse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Side story in sithnip 'verse, beginning after chapter 5 of coruscating shadows. 
> 
> Xanatos uses Shakespearean insults on Bruck because I love [this post that went around tumblr combining Shakespearean insults with cat pictures](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/post/160035601391/catsuggest-crazycrowlady) and now I can't stop seeing Xanatos as a particularly haughty feline.

“We’re not actually following that weak-ass plan you gave baldy are we?” Bruck asked as soon as short-range communications had been reset after dropping out of hyperspace over Geonosis. In the Aethersprite just ahead of him, Xanatos let out a low, smoky chuckle. They’d been flying for days, unable to communicate save through their active pair-bond when in hyperspace, meditating lightly to stave off weariness. Still, after more than a decade as Master and Padawan and almost as long as a working partnership, they knew what to expect from one another.

“Of course not,” Xanatos scoffed. “And the old windbag probably knows it too, so we may as well live down to our reputations.”

“Nobes will be mad if we start another war, and I don't want to be cut off from the good treats,” Bruck warned.

“Do you not trust me Padawan mine?” Xanatos asked with a wounded tone.

“To get me shot at, sure,” Bruck laughed. “There’s a reason Nobes calls you _Worse Idea_.”

“Well who would dare mar my beauty after all?” Xanatos teased. “And being called _Bad Idea_ isn’t bad enough?”

“Vanity thy name is,” Bruck sighed with a grin. “Besides, you know that if he didn’t think you were worse you’d be offended. So what's the plan then?”

“Impudence, thou cream-faced loon,” Xanatos said fondly, then his tone shifted to serious. “Break atmosphere in close formation so they only get one signature on the scanner, land near the Senator’s ship. Leave the astromechs there on guard with the engines running. I'll go in the front to bargain their release while you recon the place and spring the brat and Senator,” Xanatos outlined. “Something like that anyway.”

“Our usual then? Sounds good,” Bruck said with a shrug, and tapped at his navcomp. “Sending coordinates on the Senator’s yacht. That is a _nice_ ship.”

“We'd better make sure not to scratch it then,” Xanatos teased, and then punched the accelerator. Bruck accelerated with him, easing his Aethersprite so close their wings lapped. Without the Force such maneuvers would be all but impossible, but Jedi pilots, even those deemed merely ‘competent’ by their instructors, could outfly nearly any other pilot in the galaxy simply due to the decreased reaction times and increased sensory abilities granted by the Force. 

The two Aethersprites seared through the atmosphere, blazing a fiery trail across the sky. They landed hard on the sand beside the sleek Naboo yacht, and Bruck bounded out of his cockpit with an appreciative whistle. Like his former Master, Bruck dressed top to toe in unbroken black, with leather tabards, breeches and boots. Somehow, despite that both their wardrobes were supplied out of the same store-room, Xanatos always managed to look more put together, as if his uniform were tailored to his lean form. 

“See you later Master, I’ve already pinged Obi-Wan’s droid to steal his ship back and fly it home,” Bruck murmured into his comm, then thumbed the alerts to silent, palmed his lightsaber, and headed toward the distant hive. He could feel Skywalker’s brilliant signature even though he was kilometres from the facility. At least the brat was easy to find when he needed rescuing. 

With a sigh, Bruck raised his hood over his bright white hair, then pulled out a cloth and wound it around his face, leaving only his eyes visible. Deserts sucked. And while his all black outfit was terribly flattering, it showed the slightest hint of dirt. Bruck scrunched up his nose in displeasure, then huffed his annoyance out into the Force and fixed his eyes on the horizon. He had a date with a pretty lady. Smirking, Bruck set out at a ground eating lope, long legs ably covering the distance to the Geonosian settlement.

* * *

Back at the cluster of ships, Xanatos forced access to the Naboo yacht. It was clear that their two captives hadn’t exactly planned out their excursion. There was an astromech aboard though, so Xanatos directed it to start pre-flight and keep the engines warm, then programmed its designation and frequency into his comm unit. They would likely need a fast get away, so hopefully the little R2 unit was up to the measure.

“And now, for our amazing disappearing trick,” Xanatos murmured to himself, then flicked his fingers over his perfectly arrayed robes to ensure there wasn’t a speck of dust on him. Turning on his heel, he swept his robes protectively around himself and sauntered back down and out of the ship. The Aethersprites had already been flown off by their astromechs, leaving the Naboo yacht as the only viable transport off planet for the Jedi and senator. Hopefully this plan worked. 

As half expected, Xanatos didn’t have to walk far before he was met by a rank of bristling Geonosians. He smiled wolfishly, showing all his teeth despite knowing quite well that it was bad diplomatic behavior. The Geonosians chittered and fluttered their wings, jabbing at the air with their blasters. No - disruptors. Obi-Wan had said they used disruptors, not standard laser bolts. Well, that increased the level of difficulty slightly, but not enough that it impacted the plan, such as it was.

“Hello. I believe you have something of mine. I’m here to negotiate the return of Jedi Skywalker and Senator Amidala,” Xanatos said firmly, his Upper Coruscanti accent clear and crisp. He’d been listening to what few samples the archives had of Geonosian since they got the go ahead for the mission, and while he was by no means fluent, he could understand the almost subaudible clicks and chirrups well enough to understand that the party that greeted him wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Curious, he imbued his voice with Force, and _suggested_ : “You will take me to your leader.”

The Geonosians erupted into argument, but soon Xanatos was being prodded warily towards their central hive. He was honestly unsure if the Force suggestion had actually worked or if it was just standard practice for them to bring in prisoners to their central fortress. While they walked, Xanatos maintained a low level grasp of the Force; not enough to alert other nearby Force users, but enough to keep his robes pristine and in perfect array, his hair sleek and gleaming. Obi-Wan was entirely correct when he accused Xanatos of vanity, but more than once Xanatos’ looks had saved him a bit of trouble, so he saw no issue in assuring he always presented himself at his very best even if he had absolutely zero interest in any of the propositions he received.

“Your Grace,” Xanatos greeted with an ostentatiously flourishing bow when they presented him to a Duke Poggle. “I am Xanatos du Crion, Governor of Telos. I greet you on behalf of the Jedi Order, and am authorized to negotiate on their behalf for the release of Jedi Skywalker and Senator Amidala,” he explained. Technically, he _was_ still correctly addressed as Governor of Telos, although he had long since signed papers so that the governance of the planet would fall to his niece Dairon, and Telos was currently administrated by his sister Nason. 

He was _also_ (technically) authorized to act on behalf of the Jedi, although the mission plan approved by Master Windu didn’t really mentioned negotiating. More demanding. But Xanatos had always played to his strengths, and demanding anything but attention had never worked well for him. Attention though, he could hold attention as long as he wanted. And while the Geonosians were looking at him, they weren’t watching for Bruck. Xanatos hid his sly smile, and began his routine.

Through the pair-bond they had maintained since Bruck was Knighted, Xanatos could feel his former Padawan approaching. Keeping a sliver of attention on the bond, Xanatos charmed and evaded with all his innate skill and years of training. Occasionally, when the attention of his audience slipped, he touched his words with the Force, not enough to coerce or suggest, just enough to keep all attention firmly on him, and away from the security monitors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruck finds Anakin and Senator Amidala, and is not impressed. Then he is.

Deep in the bowels of the Geonosian hive, Bruck cursed extensively in his mind as he held perfectly still. Karking _bugs_. He pushed his hair back off his face, well aware he’d probably just coated his forehead in the fine, silty red dust that coated _everything_ on Geonosis. He hated - no, okay, severely disliked - this planet _(hate wasn’t the Jedi way, and he’d promised Nobes after all)_. He waited as patiently as he was able, and finally when the narrow, tunnel-like corridor was clear, Bruck continued on, crouching, and listening, and letting the Force lead him, leaving a trail of well hidden detonators in his wake.

“I’m burning up inside,” Bruck heard echoing ahead of him. Oh, he knew that whingy adolescent voice, that striving worshipful tone. _Burning up inside_ , Bruck cackled mentally. Fierfek, the boy certainly had their Lineage’s penchant for melodrama. Bruck touched his bond with Xanatos. They were still safe on that end. He grinned beneath the fabric wound around his face, then continued on.

The twisting, uneven corridors distorted sound and made judging distance all but impossible. Still, it wasn't too long before he found the cave - alcove - cell - whatever - that Anakin and Senator Amidala were held in. The Senator looked a bit roughed up but still lovely despite the angry frown she wore. Even better, her hands were free and she was working on the lock to the cell. A self rescuing damsel, Bruck’s favorite kind.

“Madame Senator, Skywalker,” Bruck greeted quietly, lowering his wrap to show his face. The Senator let out a short sharp shriek of surprise, then stared at him wide eyed. “Apologies,” Bruck grinned. “I'm Knight Chun, your rescue. Master du Crion is keeping the bugs diverted.”

“I could've gotten us out,” Skywalker sulked.

“Less arguing, more escaping,” Bruck bit out. Ugh. He knew Obi-Wan was the hard case specialist, but did he _have_ to take on Skywalker? Activating his ‘saber, Bruck cut through the lock easily. “Come with me if you want to live. Stay quiet, stay close,” he ordered, touching his pair bond once more to let Xanatos know they were on their way out. As they crept along, Bruck could hear Anakin grumbling behind him and rolled his eyes, then stuck another detonator to a support pillar.

“What?” the Senator hissed, and Bruck paused, looking back at her in disbelief. 

“Did you miss the fact that they kidnapped you and were trying to ransom you back?” Bruck asked in a scathing whisper. “That they threatened to publicly execute you? They’re also building an army about twice the size legally allowed by the Naboo Conventions. So yes, I’m going to blow the place off the map. Unless you think there’s some redeeming value to leaving an enemy at our backs?” At that, she narrowed her eyes, but shook her head. Bruck nodded sharply, then continued on.

“I know you,” Amidala said after a while, and Bruck turned to stare at her. She flushed, and Bruck smiled and shook his head. 

“You do, we’ll reminisce later, when we’re not trespassing on a hostile planet,” Bruck said bemusedly, and continued leading them out of the hive.

* * *

Xanatos maintained an aloof persona at the best of times, a part of him still that hurting young man he had been when he failed his Knighthood trials. He allowed few people into his heart, and his own Padawan, his Padawan-brother, and a very few others had his trust. That distance was a blessing for operations like this. He simply invited his opponent to talk, and they filled the time. He could keep someone talking for hours when he needed. For missions like this, it was necessary skill.

As the time passed, little bursts of feeling tickled along the bond from Bruck. Quietude when Bruck was attempting to be sneaky, smug excitement when he was slicing or placing charges. Fierce adrenaline soaked joy when he found something, hopefully their misplaced Senator and Jedi. A more purposeful brush told Xanatos when Bruck had made contact, and Xanatos kept their hosts talking a little bit longer before he deftly extricated himself and headed back to the ship. 

Once out of sight of the Geonosians, Xanatos reached out in the Force. He could feel Bruck, Skywalker and a presence that must be Amidala a few klicks away. Keeping hold on the Force, Xanatos used it to accelerate beyond what a human body should be able to generate. He covered the distance to the Naboo yacht easily, arriving barely out of breath. Bruck, he knew, would take longer, as Amidala couldn’t enhance her speed with the Force. 

Ensuring he wasn’t tracking in any dirt, Xanatos checked over the pre-flight routine that had been initiated by the astromech. The little droid had done a good job, and all systems were ready in case they needed to leave atmosphere in a hurry. Pleased, Xanatos settled in to wait. He could take off, go pick up his former Padawan and their wayward companions, but he was feeling a little vindictive. Skywalker and Amidala could walk; maybe the exertion would remind them why getting captured was a bad idea.

* * *

“You may want to cover your ears,” Bruck said mildly, then toggled the switch on his remote. There was a distant, muffled _pop_ , and then the ground rumbled beneath their feet. A moment later, a wave of pressure swept past them, followed by a wall of sound. By way of broad hand gesture, he indicated they ought to keep moving, and eased back into the ground eating lope he’d been pacing them at for the last hour.

“What _was_ that?” Amidala demanded between heaving breaths.

“That was their droid foundry going up,” Bruck said, tossing a grin back over his shoulder. “Hope they had good insurance.” Amidala’s eyes widened, but then she gave a surprisingly vulpine smile, her dark eyes sparkling. Oh, Bruck realized. She was _beautiful_. No wonder Anakin was making Bantha eyes at her. “I aim to please, your Majesty,” Bruck called, grinning at her again, and Anakin tripped over his own feet and cursed in Huttese.

“Classic bait and switch, eh Master?” Bruck said somewhat smugly as he swaggered up the ramp and purposefully bumped into Xanatos once they reached the ship. 

“Beautifully executed, Padawan mine,” Xanatos said with a touch of quiet pride, flicking gently at the smudge of dirt Bruck had introduced to his clothing. 

“That is - you just - he blew up like half the planet!” Anakin exclaimed. “That is _not_ a bait and switch.”

“Hyperbole,” Xanatos chided disapprovingly. 

“It’s how _we_ run a bait and switch,” Bruck huffed. “Master goes in the front as the bait since he’s prettier, I go in the back, get what we want, and then hit the switch. _Boom_ , bait and switch.” 

“Find anything else while you were in there?” Xanatos asked, leading the rather dusty extraction group toward the cockpit.

“Oh yeah,” Bruck grinned, producing a datachip from somewhere and dancing it across his fingers before disappearing it again. “Went in through the factory floor. They are - well, _were_ \- building a serious droid army in there. Hope they got a hefty down payment, because those ‘bots are toast.”

“So the usual?” Xanatos said with a slight smile, settling into the pilot’s seat and deftly beginning lift-off procedures.

“The usual. Fragged the backup drives, infected the core, left a trail of detonators in my wake,” Bruck said gleefully, waving his hand in false negligence. “It’s too bad we couldn’t bring the Rangers along for the fun.” He flopped into the co-pilot’s seat, legs hung over the arm of the chair so he faced Xanatos rather than front consoles.

“Top secret mission dear, no Rangers allowed, even if they are excellent at op. sec.,” Xanatos reminded. Bruck wrinkled his nose, then shrugged. The Order, in his rather biased opinion, had their head up their asses as far as the Antarian Rangers went; he almost always brought a squad with him on his missions, and they’d saved his bacon more than once. It was a tendency he’d learned from his Master, for whom a group of Rangers often pretended to be bodyguards when Xanatos was on diplomatic duty. 

Those Rangers, Bruck knew, had saved Xanatos more than once as well. They trained just as hard as Jedi, perhaps harder since they didn’t have the advantage the Force provided, and often knew more than the Jedi about the situation on the ground. No one else in the Lineage made use of Rangers, but then, finding a partner willing to listen to him was all but impossible for Xanatos, and would have been just as difficult for Bruck if it weren’t for Xanatos and Obi-Wan.

A prim throat clearing drew Bruck’s attention, and he let his head drop back, looking at the Senator upside down. It was a nice view. She flushed adorably when he granted her his full attention. Bruck raised both eyebrows in silent question and fixed his most charming smile on his mouth. It was a particularly handsome expression, he thought; he had practiced it in the mirror for ages before he managed the perfect blend of aloof condescension and boyish charm.

“So where do I know you from?” Amidala asked, then flushed more deeply. 

“We met on Naboo ten years ago,” Bruck said, sitting up properly and turning to face the former Queen. “Master Jinn was my grandmaster - Master Xanatos is Obi-Wan’s Padawan-brother. A Jedi’s Lineage is their family. Stepwise, Nobes is my - uncle I suppose. But he’s like a brother to me. We’ve known one another since we were in the creche. I was awful to him then of course, but Nobes is about the most forgiving person in existence.”

“You tried to kill him,” Anakin inserted testily. 

“Well yes, but I didn’t try very hard, and I was a twelve year old twerp. No one should be held accountable for the things they do during puberty. All those hormones make you certifiable,” Bruck sniffed, circling his finger near his temple. 

“You tried to kill him?” Amidala asked, eyes wide. Bruck shrugged. 

“I wasn’t thinking particularly clearly. I was about to wash out of the Order, be sent to the Service Corps. It’s not really such a bad fate in truth, but I was rather melodramatic, thought the world was ending and all that nonsense,” Bruck said breezily, waving it off as if he hadn’t been suicidal and perfectly willing to take another into oneness with the Force in his desperation. He wondered sometimes, what would have happened if anyone but Obi-Wan had followed him that day. Would he have been able to kill at that age? Would he have died? The Force had been looking out for him, sending Obi-Wan in his wake. 

“He’s leaving out that the whole situation was my fault,” Xanatos said quietly, and Amidala’s eyes widened even further, the whites showing the whole way around her irises. 

“ _He_ was trying to kill Master Qui-Gon,” Anakin all but growled, and Bruck rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like it _worked_ ,” Bruck huffed. “Grandmaster forgave us before he even met you, bratling.”

“You - really?” Amidala asked, and Bruck shrugged.

“Like I said, I wasn’t particularly well adjusted at the time. The mind healers in the Temple are skilled and understanding beings,” Bruck said. He left it at that. It was a long story of course, but frankly she already knew more about them than most, and Bruck saw no reason to give her more information about their Lineage. She might be one of the more humane Senators he’d met, but she was still a politician, no matter how lovely her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruck flirts with surprising competence, and talks about the Jedi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of Jedi younglings being nonverbal and communicating using the Force until a later age and then speaking in full sentences is taken from SWModdy's [Give Me cookies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10383210) with permission. This headcanon has taken up residence in my brain and will likely resurface.
> 
> Bruck gets to be my mouthpiece regarding the Jedi as a people / culture with their own rituals and traditions, not just a religion / Order.

Padme sighed, wrapping her hands around the delicate translucent teacup. The tea, a fragrant, floral Naboo variety, had long gone cold. The past few days had been - an experience. She had been so pleased to see Obi-Wan again, and Anakin - he’d grown so tall and handsome. Would she feel differently now, she wondered, if Anakin had been the one to go off investigating and Obi-Wan had stayed with her as protector? 

Ten years ago she and all her handmaidens had crushes on Obi-Wan, young and mischievous and terribly handsome, and a hero to their people. The passing decade had treated Obi-Wan well. He was even more handsome at thirty-odd than he had been at twenty-odd. The same, Padme’s mind whispered, was true for Bruck Chun. Bruck was of a height with Anakin, half a head or so taller than Obi-Wan. He was darker skinned than Obi-Wan too, golden-tan rather than strawberry and cream complected, and terribly striking with his white blond hair and almost colourless blue eyes. He’d looked like an angel bursting into their cell, and Padme mentally remonstrated herself for girlish romanticism.

“Are you well Madame Senator?” a cool, Upper Coruscanti inflected voice asked, and Padme looked up, flushing as she realized it was the very Jedi she was contemplating. Could Jedi actually read minds? she wondered. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Padme admitted. 

“I’m not surprised,” Bruck said, helping himself to a cup of tea and sitting down opposite her at the small table in the galley. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience, no matter how successfully it’s been resolved. I would advise speaking to a - psychiatrist? Counsellor? In the Temple we have mind healers, but they deal with the physical as much as the psychological.”

“You - you mentioned them before, and that you visited them often,” Padme asked, not sure if it was a polite topic but curious how this man could go from having tried to kill Obi-Wan as a preteen to now claiming the other Jedi as a brother. 

“I do. I go at least once a Standard month if I’m in Temple,” Bruck said with a slight shrug. “I have neurochemical imbalances, and I tend to exhibit those illnesses as inappropriate and unregulatable anger, and recklessness. The mind healers help me talk things through so I understand more appropriate responses, and they can also use Force healing to help me correctly balance my neurotransmitters. It’s an ongoing process,” Bruck said with another shrug. He didn’t particularly like talking about his mental health, but he also understood Amidala’s curiosity, especially given Anakin’s earlier lack of tact regarding their rather troubled Lineage. 

“That’s - you’re very different than I expected,” Padme said politely, feeling a little silly. Earlier, Anakin had been quite verbose in his dislike for the Master and Knight who had rescued them, and now Padme couldn’t help but see it as the reaction of a teenager upset at being shown up by those more competent. Anakin had been sweet and clumsily charming on Naboo, and oscillating wildly between pitiable and terrifying on Tatooine. Since arriving on Geonosis - he’d been on task at first, and had seemed competent, but they had been captured quickly, and clearly Obi-Wan had no longer been on planet by the time they arrived.

“You’ve been listening to Anakin?” Bruck guessed, and Padme flushed, nodding. Bruck sighed. “Anakin doesn’t really get the Jedi mindset for all that he’s been with us a decade now,” Bruck said carefully. “I know to outsiders our way of life - especially when we’re young - it looks and sounds a lot like indoctrination. Master Xanatos was considered borderline too old to train when he was brought to Temple as a five year old. According to my records, I was dedicated to the Temple before I was two, and it was the same with Obi-Wan. Neither of us knows any family but our Lineage or any home but the Temple.

“We grow up surrounded by others who feel and think as we do, who are trained to feel and think as we do. We have differences of opinion yes, but we build from a consistent foundation. Obi-Wan and I were attending classes in philosophy and language and diplomacy and engineering together from childhood. But more than that, as children we can all feel one another mind to mind, we build bonds with one another in the Force. 

“Did you know Jedi children usually don’t speak until they’re four or five?” Bruck asked on a seeming tangent, and Padme shook her head. “We communicate through the Force. Feeling and emotion are our first language. We let each other know how we feel and what we want through images and flashes of emotion. It’s instinctual to us. Our caretakers speak to us like adults from the start, and we communicate to them through that same mix of feeling and Force. When we do speak, it’s in full sentences,” he explained. 

“That net of bonds, though weak, links all Jedi,” Bruck continued, “and it helps stabilize beings like me who have mental illnesses that might otherwise be more pronounced. It isn’t a solution, obviously. I still have to see the mind healer and if I skip out on my sessions it’s noticeable. But it also means we have a built in support system.

“Anakin - the only bonds he really has are those that are purposefully formed. His bond with Obi-Wan, and any pair-bonds he might have formed with Jedi he’s worked with on missions. But Anakin was seen as an outsider when he first arrived, and you know how unthinkingly cruel children can be. When the other children finally _did_ make an effort to know him, he tended to at least affect indifference. I’ve offered to pair-bond him before, and he might accept for the duration of a mission, but he always breaks the bond after. 

“On the other hand, I don’t think Obi-Wan’s ever let a pair-bond unravel. He’s bonded to nearly every one of our agemates still living, plus the rest of our Lineage, and the other Masters he’s worked with save those who have let the bonds lapse from their ends. There’s a reason he’s one of the most stable people I know, and that we all depend on him so much.”

“You really love him, don’t you,” Padme asked with a smile. 

“Of course, he’s my brother,” Bruck said unselfconsciously. 

“I’m glad you have someone like that,” Padme said quietly. “I - my handmaidens have become friends as well as bodyguards and advisors over the years, but there are still times -”

“You feel alone,” Bruck said with quiet understanding, reaching out to enfold her small, pale hand in his. “It’s very lonesome at the top, from what I hear. You had a great deal of responsibility placed on your shoulders at a rather young age, and it’s been unrelenting ever since. You haven’t had time to decompress or just be a normal teenage girl or young woman.” Padme smiled thinly, then nodded. 

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Padme said, looking up at Bruck. Her smile widened slightly, and she ducked her head with a blush. “Thank you for coming for us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Bruck said, giving his best roguish smile as he brought her hand to his mouth. He pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, and Padme’s flush deepened. “We couldn’t let one of the few competent Senators in the Republic be killed.” 

“You’re teasing,” Padme chided.

“A little,” Bruck admitted. “But it’s also true. Most Jedi try to stay out of politics, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t paying attention. And we have a vested interest in you after all.” Padme pulled her hand free, hiding her face briefly in both palms. 

“He was - he was something, Master Jinn,” Padme said quietly after a while. Bruck let out a low, slightly bitter laugh. Padme looked up in surprise, having expected a rather different reaction, something fond. Qui-Gon would have been something like a combination of grandfather and uncle after all, if Padme was understanding it correctly.

“That’s for sure,” Bruck said mildly.

“No, tell me,” Padme urged, her curiosity roused. Bruck sighed, looking at her appraisingly. 

“Master Jinn - was a maverick,” Bruck settled on saying. “He was quite fond of telling Obi-Wan to focus on the moment, let the future take care of itself. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan is prescient, to the degree that when we were small he’d wake the entire creche screaming about the sky being on fire. These things can be trained, and when we were young Nobes would have special lessons with Master Yoda on accepting the visions but not relying on them - _always in motion, the future is_. But Jinn would just say ‘live in the moment Padawan,’ and dismiss him entirely, and Nobes - well, it’s never easy to see or cause death. It’s worse if you know it could have been prevented.” 

“I - I had no idea,” Padme admitted. Bruck nodded. 

“He wasn’t sleeping properly for weeks before Naboo,” Bruck said dismally. “For all I wanted Jinn for my own when we were Initiates, I almost wish he hadn’t taken either of us. Obi-Wan - he’s a phenomenal Jedi. But that’s because of who he is, not because of Master Jinn.”

“Oh,” Padme breathed, and then reached out, taking Bruck’s large, calloused hand in both of hers. “I know I’m rather biased, but you’re a pretty exceptional Jedi yourself Knight Chun.”

“Bruck,” he corrected with a flush. He waffled for a moment, then decided _kriff it_. Drawing up their joined hands, he kissed Padme’s knuckles, then her soft palm. 

“You’re pretty exceptional yourself Senator,” Bruck said, infusing every iota of the desire she inspired into his tone. Padme let out an almost subaudible sound of lust, her pupils dilating sharply. 

“Oh,” Padme breathed, and swallowed thickly. “Oh - I wasn’t -” she shut herself up, nibbling at her lower lip and tracking the way Bruck’s eyes followed her mouth. That - was entirely unanticipated. “That - I was under the impression - are you allowed?” she stammered, and Bruck chuckled softly. 

“Attachment is forbidden,” Bruck said huskily. “They cannot forbid desire.” 

“I don’t really understand that,” Padme said softly, cocking her head slightly to the side and leaning back slightly. “What does that even mean? Anakin was going on about attachment as well.” The comparison was like being doused in cold water. Bruck’s desire went out like a snuffed candle.

“For the record, mentioning Anakin? Total mood killer,” Bruck grumped, and was quietly pleased when Amidala laughed softly, squeezing his hand, of which she’d kept custody. “As for attachment - it’s simple really, although it seems to confuse everyone else. Jedi are permitted to love, in any and all permutations, but we love with open hands. 

“We have to accept that those we love will be lost to us, or separated from us. That they have their own lives and duties that we do not dictate or control. We love, but we do not seek to possess, nor to hold power over those we love. I love Nobes and my Master and even that brat Padawan, but I also have accept that any given day they might not come back from a mission, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Nothing I _should_ do about that.”

“He made it sound like love is utterly forbidden,” Padme said thoughtfully. 

“Well, for a Padawan it pretty much is. Most don’t have the emotional maturity to love without attachment until Knighthood or later,” Bruck said. “It’s not a hard and fast rule, but in practice Padawans are discouraged from forming lasting relationships. Most just have casual sex in their friends group or with beings they meet on mission, although that’s not terribly well thought of.” Padme flushed heatedly at that. “Sorry, probably oversharing there,” Bruck said. “I forget not everyone is accepting of such attitudes.”

“So all Jedi are just - blase about sex?” Padme asked, still blushing. 

“Not all,” Bruck admitted. “Most though. We’re taught about the biological drives we experience from a young age, and most of us don’t view our bodies as inherently sexual - _luminous beings, we are, not this crude matter_. Our bodies are merely tools through which we interact with the Force. That said, we understand pleasure and hormones and so forth. I know it’s not what most people would categorize as normal, but you have to understand that the Jedi, while not genealogically homogenous, are a culturally distinct people. We have our own traditions and rituals and practices.”

“I - I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Padme admitted. “Although it makes sense when you explain it like that. How strange is must be then, both for Anakin and for those of you who are around him.”

“It is, and we do our best to not only accommodate him but also teach him our ways, but, well, I’m sure you remember being 19. You know everything about everything at that age, and the adults responsible for you are not only wrong but wrongheaded,” Bruck said with a wry smile. 

“And you’re terribly persecuted and no one understands, yes,” Padme said with bemused understanding. “So Jedi have awkward teenage years then too?” Bruck laughed softly at that, brushing her knuckles with another kiss. She flushed beautifully. 

“I’m pretty sure our early Padawan years are in our teens to teach us humility,” Bruck said with a smile. “Although with that awful haircut, it may just be abject humiliation.”

“I don’t know, my entire Queensguard had crushes on Obi-Wan,” Padme said with a teasing smile.

“He does tend to inspire that reaction,” Bruck said with complete understanding. He might never have had a crush on Obi-Wan himself, but nearly every single one of their agemates had. “Completely oblivious about it too, and to make it worse he flirts with _everyone_ and doesn’t even realize it. Thankfully he’s so kriffing nice no one ends up feeling led on.” 

Padme laughed softly at that. They talked a while longer, a bit about the Jedi but more about Naboo until Padme dozed off. Bruck debated for about half a second, then gently wrapped her in his black robe and carried her towards the staterooms. He passed Anakin in the corridor, and got a thoroughly pissed off glare for his trouble. A small, petty part of Bruck that he did his best not to listen to was quite pleased.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Anakin being creepy? More Anakin being creepy.

“I hate sand,” Anakin was grousing at the breakfast table when Padme arrived the next morning, patting disgruntledly at his beige and brown uniform. Padme couldn’t help but compare his juvenile complaints with Bruck’s quiet amusement. Both of them were mussed and dirty, although Bruck had found cologne from somewhere and doused himself with scent. His face and hair was clean too, while Anakin was still dusted all over with the fine, silty red sand of Geonosis. 

“Yes, yes it gets everywhere, it would help if you _showered_ ,” came a rich voice with the same Upper Coruscanti accent Bruck exhibited. It took a moment, but then Padme identified the tall, lean Jedi that could only be Bruck’s former Master, Xanatos du Crion. He looked every inch the hereditary aristocrat he was, sleek and beautiful, not a stitch of his uniform out of place, not a speck of dust on the all black tunics and tabards. From Padme’s mental math, he had to be at least fifty, but he didn’t look much older than Bruck, who was only a decade or so Padme’s senior.

“I did,” Anakin protested, and both the other Jedi raised a single eyebrow in silent judgment. Padme had seen the same expression on Obi-Wan’s face, and she stifled a giggle at the thought of such a thing running in their ‘family.’ “Okay - but I will,” Anakin said, and Bruck shook his head with a smile while Xanatos just sighed. 

“We’ll be in hyperspace a few more hours before we drop to realspace and adjust our vectors. We’re maintaining radio silence until we hit the Coruscant beacons, and that will be a few days yet,” Xanatos said. “I’m going to meditate, please try not to have any emergencies you need me to resolve.” Anakin grumbled, then sulked off. Hopefully to shower. Padme sipped at her tea, watching Bruck from beneath lowered eyelids. 

“So if we’ve been in hyperspace the whole time,” Padme began.

“Why will it take us another few days to hit Coruscant?” Bruck finished understandingly. “We’re taking the scenic route. We checked your fuel gauges, then calculated a few spare jumps in case we were followed,” Bruck said with a shrug. “Probably unnecessary, they know where we’re headed after all, but we figured it was better to be on the safe side.” He paused, watching her appraisingly. 

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. You’re a beautiful young woman, but more than that, fierce, willing and able to stand up for yourself and your beliefs. I can almost understand why the brat’s been going on about you like you invented sunlight these past ten years. But if the attention is unwanted, say the word and I stop.”

“I - it’s not - unwanted,” Padme admitted hesitantly. “At least - not from you,” she said with a slight grimace. 

“Has - has he been this - overt - since he was assigned your protection detail?” Bruck had to ask. “He gave me such a look last night when I was carrying you to your room it’s a miracle I didn’t burst into flame.” Padme giggled, then grew serious. 

“He - I was flattered at first, he really can be quite charming, in a bumbling, boyish way,” Padme said. Bruck refrained from snorting. It didn’t sound terribly charming to him, but then, he’d never been attracted to beings that could be described as either ‘bumbling’ _or_ ‘boyish.’ “But he changed when we were captured,” she said, omitting their unauthorized trip to Tatooine. “He - it was like a switch flipped. He started talking about killing all the Geonosians, saying they were no better than slavers, and then he would get - I don’t know - not sad, despondent maybe, desperate. Begging me to return his affections before we died. It was - very dramatic,” she said carefully. _Terrifying_ , Bruck inferred.

“Yikes,” Bruck said lightly, then flushed. That - that wasn’t terribly professional. But it did make Padme smile. A thin, forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. It was certainly better than the wan, worried look that had been on her face. “Look, I’m not Anakin’s best advocate,” Bruck admitted after a moment, gently taking Padme’s hands in his. “But desperation, imminent death - that’s not when you want your admission of love. And definitely not when you’ve only really known one another for a month or less.” He paused, looking over at the door. A few moments later, it slid open and Anakin all but stomped in.

“What are you doing?” Anakin demanded.

“Keeping the Senator company?” Bruck said with false innocence. 

“You’re trying to take her from me,” Anakin practically growled. 

“Whoa,” Bruck said firmly. 

“Excuse you, I am not a possession,” Padme interjected heatedly. “I am a sentient being with my own thoughts, emotions, and will. You claim you love me? Bloody well listen to me then. I barely know you, and what I do know has taken a serious hit in the past week. You have absolutely zero authority over me.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” Anakin pled.

“No,” Padme said firmly. “Your protection is unnecessary at this point. Your presence makes me feel anything but safe.” Anakin took a step forward, and Padme stood firm, raising her chin as if daring him to introduce a physical aspect to their argument.

“Anakin,” Bruck warned, standing and placing himself slightly between them. “You don’t want to do that. Go back to the bunks and meditate. You have plenty to think on.” Anakin growled, nearly trembling in place in constrained anger. “Anakin,” Bruck said again, a thread of warning in his voice. His hand settled on his ‘saber hilt. Anakin tore his eyes from Padme and glared at Bruck, then turned on his heel and stomped off. “So that was fun,” he said after a long, tense pause, and Padme dissolved into slightly hysterical giggles.

Turning, Bruck gently gathered Padme into his arms as her giggles gave way to wrenching sobs. She’d held together tremendously. The breakdown - that was unfortunately expected. Bruck held her, gently rubbing her back and murmuring reassuring nonsense against her perfumed hair. She was so very strong, but everyone had a breaking point, and she had reached hers. Slowly Padme quieted, flushing as she realized she’d just sobbed all over a Jedi Knight.

“Sorry,” Padme choked out. 

“Hey, no, no apologies,” Bruck reassured. “Listen, you were probably overdue for a stress reaction with all you’ve been through recently. No apologies, okay?”

“Okay,” Padme said, voice wavering. 

“Why don’t you go and wash your face, then lay down. I’ll bring you some tea,” Bruck said gently, and after a moment Padme nodded against his chest. She shuffled off after clinging to him a little while longer, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in self comfort. Bruck watched her for a moment, then went to the hob and started the kettle heating. He went through the steps of tea preparation by rote, humming softly to himself, and wondering what music Padme liked. 

He’d heard a bit of Naboo music, mostly soft, soothing melodies that evoked deep expanses of water. Very ethereal. Not really anything that could be sung, not that Bruck could sing. Every other member of the Lineage could, well, perhaps save Yoda. But Bruck, despite loving music, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, not singing anyway, although he was quite good at the Telosian harp.

Tea tray prepared, Bruck headed down the curving corridors of the yacht, still humming softly. Unsurprisingly, but rather predictably, he found Anakin standing outside Padme’s stateroom door with a face like a thundercloud. Bruck debated; often when Anakin was in a temper, Bruck took it as a mission to see how far he could push before the Padawan simply exploded. But today if he set Anakin off, there would be collateral damage. Given the way his shoulders were raised and foot was tapping, Bruck though Anakin might go off without any further provocation at all.

“Skywalker,” Bruck greeted, unconsciously mimicking his Master’s cool disdain. 

“Chun,” Anakin bit out in turn. “I’ll take that from here.”

“I think given you’re out here, not in there, I’ll decline, on account of I’m rather certain the Senator is disinclined to see you,” Bruck said, his voice slipping from cool to glacial as he spoke. 

“She is mine,” Anakin growled.

“She is _not_ a possession,” Bruck bit back. “For someone who endured enslavement you have a disturbing insistence on continuing to express possession of another sentient being. The Senator belongs to no one but herself. If she does not want to see you, that is her prerogative.”

“I meant she’s my responsibility,” Anakin back-peddled, flushed with both shame and anger. 

“And yet she still does not desire your company, as evidenced by the locked door. Now please, step aside and make yourself scarce. I’d be perfectly happy to let this escalate, but some of us have promises to keep,” Bruck said, shifting his hold on the tray so it balanced on one hand, his other hand again dropping to his ‘saber hilt.

“You’re foul Chun,” Anakin hissed.

“Yes, yes, you despise me, now _move. on_ ,” Bruck said with affected disinterest. Anakin turned on his heel and all but flounced off. “Stars, I need to apologize to Master for what a little poodoo-head I used to be,” he murmured, watched bemusedly until Skywalker disappeared around the bend in the corridor. Turning to the door, he depressed the chime briefly. “Senator, it’s Knight Chun, I have your tea. Skywalker’s gone for the moment.” There was a long silence, then quiet shuffling and the door slid open a few centimetres. Padme peered out, then stepped behind the door and let it open fully. 

Entering, Bruck restrained a grimace at the fact that Amidala had felt the need to answer the door armed. Her blaster had been taken on Geonosis, but she held a rather wicked looking curved metal headdress in the hand that had been hidden behind the door. Bruck dipped his head, then carried the tray to her seating area. He set it down, then turned to go, fairly confident that the company of a Jedi was about the last thing she would want about now. Besides, he had an asskicking to deliver. 

“Stay?” Padme asked quietly as Bruck made for the door, and he paused turning to look at her appraisingly. Padme raised her chin in a not quite fully felt show of bravery, and Bruck smiled slightly. 

“If that’s what you wish,” Bruck acceded, and settled himself in one of the single cushion seats so she wouldn’t feel obligated to sit beside him. Padme smiled tremulously, crossing to pour herself some tea before settling in one of the other chairs. Bruck sat silently for a few heartbeats before starting to fidget, fingers tapping idly at his knees. “Do you like music?” he asked bluntly, then grimaced slightly. Every iota of class Xanatos had thumped into him over the years disappeared around this woman. 

“Yes, I like music,” Padme said with a slight smile, and they managed a conversation that lasted an hour or so about the tastes prevalent on Naboo versus those in Coruscant. By the time Bruck excused himself to clean up and check their coordinates, Padme’s distress had faded. She was smiling and content, and Bruck felt inordinately proud that he could help her even a little. Carrying the tray back to the galley, he paused as disquiet trembled through the Force. It didn’t feel like a warning of danger _per se_ , but it was a warning nonetheless. Bruck continued on toward the galley, and as he stepped through the hatch, a solid wave of pressure staggered him. 

“You have no business with her,” Anakin growled, arm extended with fingers spread. Bruck blinked, then blinked again. 

“Did you seriously just Force-push me against a wall because you’ve got sand in your pants about the Senator not wanting to talk to you?” Bruck asked incredulously. The weight of Anakin’s Force presence was oppressive, but Bruck had become used to the obscene amount of power his ‘nephew’ could command years ago. 

“News flash, she doesn’t owe you poodoo. Your priority was to keep her safe. You failed. You not only failed, you subjected her to greater danger due to your distrust in Obi-Wan’s ability to take care of his-karking-self. Grow up Skywalker. She’s a grown woman, why would she want an overgrown manchild, and no that isn’t a statement of my intent, that’s a statement of she makes her own choices and I’m not going to repeat that for you many more times. In fact, you’re about due for your monthly asskicking session, so just schedule that in for when we return to Temple, okay? Okay. Good chat.”

With that, Bruck _pushed_. The Force answered, the pressure holding him in place crumbling. Stalking forward, Bruck intruded into Anakin’s personal space. Reaching up, he grasped Anakin’s chin firmly between his leather gloved fingers and held his head in place. 

“You listen, and you listen good you little kriff-head. I care about you, because you’re important to Obi-Wan, and I love that barve like a brother. You’re headed down a karking bad path, and if you keep on like this you’re going to break Obi-Wan’s heart. So shape the kark up and learn how to use that anger of yours productively. Also, stop harassing women who aren’t interested in you. It’s karking gross.” With that, he patted not too gently at Skywalker’s cheek and stalked off to find a space big enough that he could run forms until his own anger abated somewhat and he could properly process it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short coda with Bruck and Xanatos to bring this side story to a close.

“Feel better?” Xanatos asked mildly when Bruck flopped into the co-pilot’s seat at his side. 

“Ugh,” Bruck said eloquently. 

“Mmm?” Xanatos inquired.

“Seriously, why did Nobes decide to train _him_?” Bruck groused, and Xanatos chuckled softly. 

“Master desired it, and you know very well that Obi-Wan never needed a reason beyond that to do anything,” Xanatos said, the tiniest thread of regret in his tone. 

“He’s so kriffing _nice_ ,” Bruck whinged. 

“Far too compassionate for his own good, thank the Force,” Xanatos agreed. Bruck sighed, settling back in his chair. Thank the Force indeed. “So,” Xanatos said after the silence had stretched between then and grown comfortable. Bruck tensed on instinct. That little word, lilting in their shared Upper Coruscanti accent. So innocuous. So unassuming. And always preceeding something Bruck absolutely didn’t want to hear or think about. “Senator Amidala hmm?” Bruck felt his face heat, and curled into a ball with a groan, burying his face in his hands. Xanatos laughed in delight. Just because he didn’t feel sexual attraction didn’t mean he couldn’t tease his former Padawan about it.

“Please Master,” Bruck begged. “I can’t help it she’s so _fierce_.” Xanatos laughed again. 

“It amuses me that your orientation can be summed up with ‘human females that could wreck you without half trying’,” Xanatos said thoughtfully, finger tapping idly at his lower lip. “How long did you chase after Tachi once she ended her affair with Obi-Wan?” Bruck groaned, trying futilely to disappear into thin air. His hormonal adolescence would be trailing after him the rest of his life in the form of his gleeful Master who delighted in causing him near terminal embarrassment.

“Oh stars, can we _not_ do this?” Bruck moaned. “Someday you’re going to fall in love - I’m not talking lust, I know that isn’t how you operate, but I swear by all the gods on all the worlds, one day you’ll fall in love and I’m going to laugh for the next thousand years.” Xanatos chuckled softly. 

“You’re too late you know,” Xanatos mused, and Bruck bolted upright, turning to stare at his Master in wonder. 

“Master?” Bruck asked, half in fear and half in fierce joy. Despite his promise, he dearly hoped for Xanatos to find love. While he might not show it much, Xanatos craved affection. Bruck’s respect and Obi-Wan’s compassion had saved him, had given him the unconditional positive emotional interactions he had so desperately needed. With Master Qui-Gon, there had been love yes, but Xanatos, like Obi-Wan had felt that Qui-Gon’s love needed to be earned. Xanatos gave a wry twist of a smile, the scar on his cheek wrinkling slightly. 

“I’m afraid I’m rather in love with Grandmaster,” Xanatos admitted, his eyes going soft at the thought. “He’s so terribly wise Bruck, I’ve always respected him of course, but now - meeting him as one Master to another.” He shook his head, blushing slightly. “Nothing will come of it. I doubt he’d have any interest me, beyond that of a Jedi for any member of their legacy.”

“You don’t know that,” Bruck chided. “He clearly returns your respect and affection, although it’s impossible to say if he feels as you do.” Xanatos dipped his head in acquiescence, but said nothing further. “I’ll say nothing beyond this,” Bruck promised with a sigh. “You cannot achieve what you do not attempt. You taught me that Master. Take heart.” Xanatos smiled slightly at that, reaching out to clasp Bruck’s hand. 

“You are a good man Bruck Chun,” Xanatos said firmly. “And an excellent Jedi.” Bruck blushed heatedly at that, puffing up slightly with pride. 

“I take after my Master,” Bruck said firmly, and Xanatos shook his head, still smiling slightly, but said nothing. Silence settled comfortably over them once more, and Bruck shifted until he got comfortable, then slipped himself into a light trance to finish his mental exercises. There were hours upon hours yet before they reached Coruscant. After a while, Bruck slipped from meditation to sleep, and Xanatos smiled fondly, standing and shouldering out of his over-robe, then laying it over Bruck, tucking him in gently. 

Leaving Bruck sleeping, Xanatos sauntered from the cockpit, ambling aimlessly through the corridors of the ship. It really was a magnificent vessel, no space wasted, but no amenity overlooked. The balance between efficiency and elegance was perfectly done, in Xanatos’ opinion. The sound of hushed but urgent conversation drew his attention as Xanatos approached the passenger cabins, and he sighed. Evidently Skywalker hadn’t yet learned his lesson about harassing women. As Xanatos drew closer though, the conversation cut off sharply. Not that was at all suspicious. He rolled his eyes in utter disbelief.

“Senator,” Xanatos greeted, ignoring Skywalker. Well - not ignoring. Not when Anakin was looming over the Senator, and her hastily withdrawn hand had been spearing her finger repeatedly at Anakin’s chest, and they both looked equally furious. Well - Amidala looked furious. Skywalker looked a bit constipated. 

“Talk some sense into him,” Amidala seethed, pointing sharply at Xanatos, then Skywalker before she stormed off, a cloud of anger shrouding her. Xanatos looked after her bemusedly for a moment, then turned to Skywalker with an eyebrow raised. She was definitely Bruck’s type, about three tonnes of sass compressed into a single fiery woman. The mystery was how that same person was also appealing to Anakin Skywalker.

“Well, what nonsensical thing have you done now?” Xanatos asked, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. 

“Nothing,” Anakin growled, his own frustration lashing about him like a living - and very agitated - creature. 

“Mmm, try again. Obi-Wan won’t believe that for a second, and he’s the one you’ll have to convince. He’s already on a short leash what with bringing Dooku back to the Temple. Do you really want to cause him more worry? Best to just confess now,” Xanatos opined. Anakin seethed, shoulders hunching up before he too stomped off. Really. This Lineage was far to enamoured of their dramatic exits. Well - drama in general. Xanatos sighed. This wasn’t his problem. 

He had gone to get Obi-Wan’s Padawan back and save the Senator. That had been accomplished. He wasn’t going to be Anakin’s personal focus of blame when things didn’t fall into place as the boy desired. He’d been hearing about the beautiful child queen for the last ten years. No one could live up to the legend Anakin had painted, and Xanatos personally thought the very real woman with whom Bruck was enamoured was likely much more interesting than the celestial icon Anakin had built up in his own mind. 

With a sigh, Xanatos headed back to the cockpit. Bruck had shifted slightly in his seat, curling into his former Master’s robe. Xanatos smiled fondly, reaching out to gently brush his fingers through Bruck’s pale hair. His earlier praise was the absolute truth. He’d nearly bungled so many things, but this - Bruck was and always would be his crowning achievement. What a Jedi he had trained, Xanatos thought with affectionate pride, and settled back into the pilot’s seat, pulling up their trajectory and calculating the parsecs to Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around through all of Anakin's bad behavior! I think the next story in the series, direct sequel to [coruscating shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662093) will start posting this weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> travel times estimated using http://www.starwars-chronicles.com/Hyperspace_Travel_Time.htm


End file.
